


A Moment of Grace

by ThusSpokeRaven



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Afterlife, Because we need more Venable fic, F/F, Hell, One Shot, Romance, The Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThusSpokeRaven/pseuds/ThusSpokeRaven
Summary: Just one moment...





	A Moment of Grace

* * *

* * *

 

 

Ms. Venable stood in a circle of light. Beyond the edges of everything she ever claimed to have wanted- peace, order, sanity, a world with strict morals and character and control was a world of shadow filled with everything she spent a lifetime rejecting.  This was her hell.

 

In the darkness, bodies writhed not in torment, but in pleasure.  People touched, laughed, and dreamed together. She watched and hated.  In hell, you are driven to look into the darkness you created and feel despair.  Her disdain and anger was such that she became a generator. Power grew in the heart that resided on the other side of that twisted spine.

 

Wilhelmina Venable opened her eyes and knew that she would not be held by these shadows.  The cane rose with her two hands before driving down. A crack sounded and the ground beneath her shattered then melted away to show tired grass.  The cracks spread climbing through the darkness and over. She found herself in a park on a sultry night far from anywhere she’d ever known.

 

The woman walked slowly aided by her cane.  While her clothing was of an antiquated style, it was not completely out of place.  Several people went by wearing similar clothes. Looking around, she soon found a sign.  She had emerged in New Orleans.

 

It made perfect sense to her.  Of course, any exit from hell would naturally be found in this pit of sin and depravity.  She walked further along through this unlisted circle of hell.

 

Several young women went speedily past, most in a risque version of her own garb.  One of their number hopped from behind adjusting a shoe as she went. The blonde woman did a double take as she passed Ms. Venable.  

 

The young woman wearing her hair in an artistic pile of waves came back to the older woman.  Her eyes bright and light brown took in the older woman with a touch of awe. “That is amazing.”  Her fingers reached forward, stopping just short of Ms. Venable’s sleeve. “May I?” she asked.

 

Ms. Venable would normally have been tart and dismissive toward someone speaking to her, but she was a bit nonplussed.  She simply gave a nod.

 

Misty Day stepped in closer and touched the lace along the edge of the sleeve panel.”Wow.  It’s prettier than a rose and softer than rain. You must wear it a lot to get that worn soft feel.”  She looked up to see Ms. Venable with a firm look on her face, but a touch of something else in her eyes.  She chuckled. “Don’t mind me. I ain’t ever been to one of these Masquerade things before and I am just gettin' gobsmacked at everything.”

 

Her eyes caught the cast of Ms. Venable’s frame.  At school there had been a little girl with scoliosis.  She wondered if the quiet woman was just as lonely deep inside.  “What mask ya got to go with?” Misty asked brightly.

 

Ms. Venable tightened her grip on her cane.  “I am not going to any Masquerade,” she stated firmly.

 

Misty half turned before turning back.  She pulled a pair of masks from her bag.  “You gotta go. You’re the best dressed one here.”  The swamp witch looked at the two masks in her hand.  Smiling, she offered a black lace half mask. “I’m Misty Day, by the way.”

 

Ms. Venable looked at the mask and then at the younger woman.  Her fingers took the mask by its very edge. “I am Wilhelmina Venable.  You may call me Ms. Venable.”

 

Misty smiled broadly.  “Well Ms. Venable, we’ve a night ahead of us.  Let’s go.”

 

Venable looked at the mask.  “I move slowly. You may go ahead Ms. Day,” she said plotting escape.

 

“Oh no Ms. Venable.  I ain’t never been to one of these things before and I reckon you haven’t either.  We can be clueless together.”

 

“While I have never attended one Ms. Day, I sincerely doubt I shall be clueless,”  she judged frostily.

 

Misty Day laughed and looped her arm through Ms. Venable’s.  “I grew up in a swamp Ms. Venable. I know fish. As much as you play it, a cold fish you ain’t.  We’ll get you your mask on and find out who you really are.”

 

Ms. Venable looked at her unexpected companion as if expecting her to be led away in a straitjacket.

 

* * *

 

 

Ms. Venable stood in the entrance and looked around at the Masque.  She began pulling up her disdain like armor. Misty stood in front of her.  “Uhn uhn Ms. Wilhelmina Venable. You are here with me and I am here with you.  The rest of these people are just shadows.” Misty saw her hackles start to rise and wanted to see this woman without the porcupine spines.

 

Misty Day drew Ms. Venable to a seat and began dancing for her.  At first, Venable stared through her, but the focus changed and the eyes softened, perhaps with the realization that Misty Day would not be racing off to join her friends for a laugh at her expense.  She submitted with only minimal hesitation as Misty drew her up and slid her cane to the table. Venable started to reach for it. Misty intercepted the hand and gently placed on her shoulder. The younger woman looked at her from behind a small black and silver mask.  “I won’t let you fall Wilhelmina.”

 

A reproach over the familiarity died on Venable lips as Misty’s hands slid into place leading her on a slow circuit of a dance.  Ms. Venable felt her shell of disdain melting as first nervousness then a burgeoning enjoyment passed through her. A kind of wonder took its place as she suddenly realized her twisted spine and her walls were not at the forefront of her mind in their slow circling dance.

 

Those extraordinary eyes watched her face, gentle hands drawing her closer.  “Ms. Venable,” Misty Day whispered in her beautiful accent.

 

“Wilhelmina,” Venable whispered back as she registered Misty drawing closer still.

 

“Wilhelmina,” Misty whispered against her lips.

 

Ms. Venable had spent a lifetime dismissing human contact as pointless and romantic acts as the worst kind of waste and sin.  God never created such beauty as sin. The kiss awoke her and raised her. This was a heaven she had never dreamed could exist for her.

 

Misty drew back and faded as a harsh and deep laugh could now be heard behind her.

 

Papa Legba stood now in Misty’s place and Ms. Venable’s cane again rested under her hands.  “Try that again shall we?” he said in an amused voice.

 

Ms. Venable stood in a circle of light. Beyond the edges of everything she ever claimed to have wanted- peace, order, sanity, a world with strict morals and character and control was a world of shadow filled with everything she spent a lifetime rejecting. A face, half seen in shadow, honeysuckle lips, orbs of light brown flashed from the dark.  Images of a woman who had gave Wilhelmina Venable a moment of human connection and one sweet moment of grace moved at the edge of her vision. Ms. Venable’s tears flowed unending. This was her hell.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome your feedback.


End file.
